


Side By Side

by junkster



Category: Trailer Park Boys
Genre: Canadian Shack, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkster/pseuds/junkster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His arm had nearly as many holes in it as his car, for god's sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side By Side

“What the _fuck_ , Julian? Where in the _fuck_ are we?” Ricky asked in irritated bewilderment as he lifted his head up off the floor, seeing wooden beams up above in the dim light and shivering bodily.

“A shack, Ricky,” was the quiet, distracted answer.

Ricky turned, making out a dark shape over by the window, and he stared at Julian’s back in confusion as he echoed in disbelief: “A shack?”

“Yeah, Rick, a shack. You know, like a log cabin?”

“I know what a shack is, Julian, I was just hoping you might tell me what the fuck we’re doing in one is all!”

“Chill out, man. We’re just hiding out for a little while.”

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Ricky pressed a hand to his temple and took a better look around. Fuck, there was a lot of wood. Walls, floorboards, rafters, one table, two chairs.

Something popped loudly behind him and he instinctively reached for the gun he didn’t have, whipping his head around and finding himself staring into dancing, flickering flames.

“Jesus, Julian,” he exclaimed, “you trying to burn us to the ground, buddy?”

“It’s a fireplace, Ricky. I didn’t just start a fire in the middle of the floor,” came the sensible, weary answer.

Ricky gazed over his shoulder for a while longer at the bright, wild light, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. The last thing he remembered was running on foot from a pair of cops, snow driving into their eyes, pine trees looming out of the darkness. He remembered a hot pain in his arm, the sensation of falling, then nothing.

Which meant a few things. One, that he’d been shot in the arm. _Again_. Two, that Julian had dragged him or carried him some of the way out of trouble. And four, or whatever the fuck number he was up to, he was the one sitting wrapped in a blanket by the fire while Julian stood over by the window in his t-shirt.

“Hey buddy,” he spoke up cautiously. “What’re you watching over there, anyway? You're freaking me out.”

Julian turned around, finally, and it soothed Ricky’s nerves to hear the familiar clink of ice on glass.

“Just thinking, man, that’s all.”

“What the fuck happened to the camera guys?”

“I guess we lost ‘em somewhere,” Julian told him vaguely, pushing away from the window frame to move closer.

“Fuck,” Ricky said succintly, because, hell, they’d never managed that before. He watched as Julian sat down next to him, paler than usual, blue eyes reflecting the flickering flames. He reached out and prised the drink out of Julian’s cold hand, taking a swallow and almost choking as pure rum poured heat down his throat. “ _Fuck!_ ” he rasped again in surprise, then took one more mouthful before handing it back, clearing his throat, and asking: “So what _did_ happen?”

Julian shrugged a shoulder, gazing at the fire. “Same thing that always happens to you, Rick, you fell down the fucking hill. When I got there you were out cold and there was blood all over the fucking place.”

“Well excuse me if I fall over in snow, Julian, that’s kind of the point that it’s all fucking slippery, y’know?”

“Well, I guess it was a good move on your part anyway, buddy, ‘cause we lost those cops.”

Ricky tentatively explored the top of his left arm with his fingers, surprised to find wiry stitches weaving in and out of his skin.

“First aid kit,” Julian clarified quietly. “Guess they’re prepared for everything up here, huh?”

“How long was I _out_ , man?” Ricky asked, considering the fact that Julian had got him there, lit a fire, stitched him up, _and_ managed to root out a drink in the meantime.

“I don’t know, Ricky, I kinda lost track of time.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna get snowed in, aren’t we?” Ricky muttered with a sinking feeling as he patted down his pockets. “You got any smokes, man?”

Julian reached out to the side of the fire and his hand emerged from the shadows with a slightly crushed but dry pack of cigarettes. He flicked one out, lit it in the flames, then held it out to Ricky with a hint of a smile.

Ricky had a horrible feeling it was in response to the adoration he failed to keep out of his expression as he took it, his warm, slightly trembling fingers bumping against Julian’s cold ones.

“Get the fuck under this blanket, Julian,” he ordered roughly as he took a drag of sweet, sweet nicotine. “Thought you were meant to be the smart one here, big guy. Jesus."

Yeah, that smile was definitely at his expense, but Ricky really couldn't have given any less of a fuck. He had smokes, booze, a fire, his best friend, and a shack that was bigger than anything he'd lived in for the last six years. They should do this more often. 


End file.
